


How to Say 'I Love You'

by windychimes



Category: Bastion
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 20:38:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3583212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windychimes/pseuds/windychimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Kid tries to find the perfect way to tell Zia he loves her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Say 'I Love You'

**Author's Note:**

> for my special kiddo gravy on her 14th birthday. sorry this is late and i hope you had a good one!

The Kid’s never been good at planning. That’s always been for other people, smarter people; his job has always been muscle. Someone designed the Bastion and they told him to build it, so he did. They told him to defend the Walls, so he did. Rucks told him to go into the Wilds and get the Cores, so he did. But telling Zia he loves her is going to take planning, the kind of planning he’s never done before. He wants it to be perfect, perfect like her. He’s never told a girl he loves her, not besides his mama. Does he tell her why he loves her? He goes over the reasons in his head, but they sound flat. She has the prettiest eyes and the sweetest songs and the softest lips, but that doesn’t matter. She’s nursed him back to health more times than he can count and she’s held his hand when he thought everything was lost and she’s never judged him for crying, but that’s not enough. She’s stubborn and spoiled and always wants her way, but if he said that it wouldn’t sound right. How does he tell her he loves her more every time he carries her to the timeout corner?

And there are still more reasons, endless reasons, more reasons he could find every day, more reasons than he could list, but it’s not enough. Should he give her a gift, too? Maybe he could find her flowers, but she grows flowers. He’s learned how to make jewelry from a book he found, but she has plenty now. There’s nothing he could buy her; without any stores, he can’t go anywhere. And nothing he could buy her wouldn’t be special enough. Maybe this isn’t something he can do on his own. Maybe he should ask Zulf.

The sun is setting when the Kid enters the helm of the Bastion. Zulf is writing the notes for the day in the captain’s log. The Kid watches his quill move back and forth as Zulf marks down the weather, the wind, the course they took. Zulf corrects Zia’s previous log where she said he threw the compass at a bird and lost it. They stand there in silence, the sunset streaming through the windows and washing over them, pink and blue and gold. There’s a certain peace in the helm at this time of day, when everything is winding down and the windows amplify the fading light. It’s seeing forever over the side of the Bastion into the clouds. Zulf finishes writing, leaves the book open to dry, and sets about cleaning the quill. Methodical in his work, Zulf goes slowly, sure to get off every last bit of ink so it doesn't dry and ruin it. No one else puts as much work into taking care of the quills, but then again, no one else is as thorough as Zulf when it comes to cleaning.

When the quill and ink are put away, Zulf looks at the Kid, signals that he’s done, and the Kid asks, “How do I tell Zia I love her?”

“Just tell her,” Zulf says, closing the book now that it’s dry.

The Kid shakes his head. “Gotta be special. Wanna make it as special as she is.”

“It’s always special when you tell someone you love them,” Zulf says. “I figured you had told her by now, honestly. How long have you been dating?”

The Kid shrugs. They don’t keep track of time on the Bastion besides seasons, and even then that’s only to prepare for the weather, or a birthday; a new season means a new birthday, even for the Kid, who hadn’t had a birthday in years before the Bastion, who doesn’t remember his birthday. It was Zia’s idea for birthdays. She said everyone should have a special day once a year, a day all about them and no one else. It was mostly for her own benefit, but she made sure everyone felt special and loved. Especially the Kid.

“Don’t matter that it doesn’t have to be important, want it to. Gotta let her know how special she is.” The Kid pauses, makes sure to look Zulf in the eyes. “How’d you tell your girl you loved her?”

It’s been many years, but bringing up Zulf’s lost love is still a touchy subject. He’s healed, healed as best he can, but some wounds still hurt. Some wounds still hurt for all of them.

Zulf takes a deep breath, brushes the hair from his eyes. He glows golden in the fading sun. “...She told me, actually. She was reading, and she looked over at me and said, ‘I love you.’ That's all it took. That was special enough.”

Nodding, the Kid turns the idea over in his head. He doesn’t read, but sometimes Zia does. Maybe he could interrupt her and tell her he loves her. Kiss her, too, and then let her go back to reading. But Zia likes things big, and grand, and something so simple wouldn’t do.

“Won’t work. Need her to know that… that she means everything to me. That I’ll love her forever.”

Zulf shrugs. “Then I can’t help. You’ll have to figure it out by yourself.” Zulf smiles and kisses the Kid on the forehead. “You’re smarter than you think, Kid. You’ll figure it out.”

He leaves then, and the Kid watches him go. A cloud passes by and casts the room in shadow. Zulf wasn’t much help, but it’s a start. Maybe Rucks will know.

It’s midday and sunny and the Kid finds Rucks lounging in the pile of cushions they’ve set off in a corner of the Bastion. He’s under the shade of a big green tree that had taken root, a space that had been empty one day and planted the next. A gift from the Bastion. Rucks picks the book up off his lap and the Kid gets a glimpse of the cover; a sharp-faced Ura warrior woman stands tall and proud on the cover, Fang Repeater slung over her shoulder. She looks formidable and fierce, but the Kid feels like she’d make a better warrior if she wore a little more clothing. Rucks looks up, sees the Kid, and stuffs the book beneath the cushion. “Kid,” he greets with a nod, “what are you up to on this fine day?”

Sitting down next to Rucks, the Kid says, “Need help telling Zia I love her. Wanna make it as special as she is.”

Rucks ‘hmms’ and leans back in his cushion. “Miss Zia’s a real special lady. Gotta knock her off her feet.”

The Kid nods, idly running his fingers through the thick grass. “Glad you agree. Zulf said it didn’t have to be special. But it’s gotta. Want Zia to know how much she means to me.”

Rucks rubs his chin. “Tall order. Easy to see how much she means to you. Maybe… try a candlelight dinner. Make her something real special.” Rucks pauses, furrows his brow. “…Maybe have Zulf help you cook."

The Kid’s cooking specialty is burnt meat. “Then what? Gotta do more.”

“Get her flowers, real nice ones. Serenade her, too. Always a sure way to a lady’s heart.”

The Kid makes a face. Whenever he sings, his voice cracks and breaks, every high note too high and low note too low. The Kid has sung Zia his mama’s lullabies, late at night when Zia can’t sleep, after nightmares and tears, her body curled against his and his fingers running through her hair. She tells him they’re beautiful, but… 

“Dunno,” the Kid grumbles, “doesn’t seem like her. Sure it works?”

“Ain’t never failed me before,” Rucks tells him with a sly grin. “Used to be quite the ladies’ man back in the day, you know.”

That’s not a story the Kid wants to hear. He stands, says, “Thanks for the advice,” and scampers off.

“Kids these days, don’t respect their elders,” Rucks grumbles, and when he’s sure the Kid is out of sight, he takes his book back out from under the cushion.

Tonight’s the night. He’s been practicing singing; his voice still trembles and shakes, but not as much. Then there was an argument with Zulf over what to cook; Zia’s favorite food is Squirt stew, but Zulf is adamant in his refusal for any cooking with Squirts. Any time Zia makes it, Zulf hides away in his tent with his Squirt by his side. They settled on Lunkhead steaks, something Zia and the Kid both enjoy, and Zulf helped the Kid not burn them. The Kid doesn’t see the point of eating meat that isn’t blackened. He picked her out some good flowers too, fragrant golden sunspot flowers. Had to fight off a storm of stinging bees, big and mean and sharp, but he got them. The moon is bright and full and the stars are twinkling in full force. It’ll be good to tell Zia he loves her on a night that’s almost as pretty as her.

The Kid’s bathed and combed his tangled hair and picked the dirt out from beneath his nails. He doesn't have nice clothes, so he settles on clean. Dinner is cooked, and Zulf and Rucks have retreated to their tents, and it’s just the two of them on the Bastion now. The Kid gets Zia from her own tent and leads her over to the table he has set up, a candle burning in the middle. With his heart caught in his throat and his stomach twisting, he says, “Here we are. Dinner.”

“Oh, Kid,” she gasps, bringing her hand up to her mouth. “This is amazing.”

The Kid tries to think of something romantic and charming to say, but his tongue is too heavy in his mouth to move. The only words on his mind are ‘I love you,’ but it’s too early for that. Instead he pulls out her seat for her, and when Zia sits and sees the flowers laid out on the table, her eyes grow so big and bright the Kid just has to kiss her.

“Oh, Kid, you’re so sweet,” she murmurs against his lips. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just… just…” ‘I love you’ threatens to spill out and the Kid ends with a shrug and shuffles over towards his seat. She smiles, the smile that makes him fall in love with her all over again every time he sees it, and the Kid grits his teeth and stares down at his meal. His cheeks burn red beneath his bronzy skin and he starts eating to quiet his mouth. He has to wait until the right moment; it has to be perfect. She has to know just how amazing she is.

Zia talks as they eat, but the Kid isn't listening. He keeps thinking of ‘I love you,’ of how pretty she is, of how much he wants to kiss her again. The candle flickers in the breeze and plays a shadow over her face, catching under her lips. They’re so big and soft. Is bad manners to kiss a girl while she’s eating? Maybe he could just kisses her instead of telling her he loves her, just kiss her all night and say it like that. But that’s not right. He needs to tell her. He scratches at the stings on his arm, little bumps popping up where the bees got him. Not very romantic to do in front of her, but they itch too much to stop.

Swallowing a bite, Zia looks the Kid in the eyes and says, “You’ve been really quiet tonight. I mean, more than usual. Is something wrong?"

‘I love you’ is crawling up his throat again so instead he jumps up and holds his hand out to her. His food sits barely touched on his plate. “Dance with me,” he mumbles, swallowing hard.

Smiling, Zia stands and takes his hand. “Of course,” she titters. He pulls her close, holding her against him. With her head in his neck, she fits against him like a missing puzzle piece. They sway back and forth instead of real dancing, the kind Zulf once tried to teach him; whenever they’ve tried dancing before, the Kid’s stepped all over her feet, and he can’t do that now, not tonight. He starts to sing into her ear, softly at first and then louder, an old love song his mama would sing, one he’s never shared before with her. He mumbles past the parts where he’s supposed to sing ‘I love you,’ instead filling the space with low humming. He can’t tell her he loves her until everything is done. When he finishes singing, they stay like they are, pressed together, swaying back and forth. Hot tears land on his neck and he has to blink back his own; it won’t do to tell her he loves her if he’s crying like a child. Lost in the scent of her, always clean and sweet, a dizziness overtakes him that threatens to knock him off his feet.

Taking a step back, still holding onto her to keep himself steady, he smiles sheepishly. “Good night?” he asks.

Sniffling, she wipes away her tears. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a better one. But there has to be an occasion for all of this. What is it?”

The Kid takes a deep breath and swallows back the sickness in his stomach. Now’s the time, now is perfect, but his vision blurs as his head spins. He tightens his grip on her to keep steady. “Wanted to say… wanted to say…” Everything is fuzzy and the Kid takes another step back. He opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a groan. The last thing he hears before everything goes black is Zia yelling his name.

When the Kid comes to, he finds his head cradled in Zia’s lap. His vision slowly comes into focus, and he recognizes the dark green walls and pungent smell of poultices and ointments as the medical tent. 

“What happened?” he mumbles. Zia wipes a cool cloth around his face to mop up the sweat prickling at his skin.

“You fainted,” she answers, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. “I guess whatever stung you was stronger than you thought. I could tell by the bumps on your arms.”

The Kid groans and squeezes his eyes shut. “Tonight was supposed to be perfect. Ruined now.”

“Tonight's not ruined at all,” Zia tsks. “What’s so special about tonight, though? You never told me.”

Sighing, the Kid grumbles, “Was… was gonna tell you I love you. Wanted it to be a special night, wanted tonight to be as perfect as you.”

Zia laughs and kisses his forehead again. "You big doofus, you didn’t have to go through all this trouble just to tell me you love me. I’ve known for a long time.”

Opening his eyes again to look into hers, the Kid’s brow furrows. “Really?”

“Of course. I know because of how you treat me. And… because I love you too.” She kisses his forehead one last time before sitting up straight. “But I appreciate all the trouble you went through for me, it really means a lot. But it’s still special if you just say you love me.”

“Guess Zulf was right,” the Kid mumbles.

“He usually is,” she laughs. Zia dips the washcloth into a bucket next to her, wrings it out, and lays it over his forehead. “Now go back to sleep, you need to rest. I’m not letting some dumb bugs take you away from me.”

The Kid finds himself drifting off halfway through Zia’s words. Now that he's told her he loves her, he can tell her he loves her every day and it will always be special, as special as her. It would have been nice if he could have told her without passing out, but… with her head in his lap and her fingers running through his hair, this is good enough. Just having her, just saying he loves her, is good enough. He distantly hears Zia singing him one of his mama’s lullabies, and he wonders not what the most perfect way to tell Zia he loves her, but if he can ever say it too much.


End file.
